


Maid For Him

by Daphne_Dark



Series: Frenzy [2]
Category: The Man in the High Castle (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Light Bondage, Maids, Power Play, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 04:55:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17595014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daphne_Dark/pseuds/Daphne_Dark
Summary: Part of the Frenzy series - set, more or less, in S3 - but taking a lot of liberties with it as well.  The joys of fanfic!This story finds John having some late-night fun with a mystery female (to be divulged at the end).





	Maid For Him

John Smith sat in the living room in his socks and suspenders, drinking a double whiskey. He checked his watch. 23:07 hrs. She was late.

Soon, however, there was the expected knock. “Come in.” He looked at her eagle-eyed as she entered. “You’re the new night maid?”

She nodded.

He walked up to her, a hint of menace in his stern face. “You’re late,” he growled.

She wrang her hands. “I’m so sorry. It was hard to find a taxi. I’m not… used to them.” She pulled off her gloves and started to unwrap her muffler.

“Stop,” Smith ordered. She froze in position, as ordered.

He took the muffler and unwrapped it himself. Then he unbuttoned her coat and yanked it off her. His breath hissed slightly, but when she looked up his eyebrows were raised with approval. “I’ll overlook it this time, but only because this new maid is so very… lovely.”

“Oh! Um, thank you?!”

He handed her coat and scarf back to her, and indicated the hall closet. “There’s a lot of dusting to be done. Start with the living room, and then you can get the cobwebs in the master suite.”

She went to hang up her coat, thinking about this powerful man. He was verrrry handsome – tall, well-built, well-proportioned in every way. She swallowed, thinking about _all_ his proportions, knowing full well that she would see all of him before he was done with her. But when she looked into that handsome face, those mesmerizing green eyes, desire wrestled with shame. Unbidden, she wanted to run her hands through his curls, just touched with grey. Oh, why did men like him age so beautifully?

She shuddered and stopped herself; she was there to do his bidding, not hers. And Smith had a reputation for being stern, hard – some said cruel. But she was not afraid; she knew he was only cruel to enemies. She was no enemy - just a woman called on for a very peculiar duty…

Smith leaned back with his double whiskey, stretching on the Biedermeier sofa. The maid seemed unsure, but she took a soft cloth and sprayed it with a lemon-scented cleaner and started dusting.

All the time she could feel his eyes, ogling her. She had been assigned the most conservative uniform available, and there was nothing sexy in the black gabardine dress that fell at midcalf, nor her plain white apron with the muslin ruffle. This outfit was as sexless as the habit that nuns wore in the Dark Ages. Yet if she stretched or reached up, his eyes were on her bust. If she bent over, she could sense him tracing her buttocks.

She dusted the wood of the sofa. As her hand brushed the side of it near his head, he suddenly grabbed her wrist and kissed the inside of it. Even through her starched cuffs she could feel the heat from his mouth. She started to pull back, but he held her more firmly and pressed his lips to the base of her palm. His lust made her tremble, and she dropped the dusting cloth.

He let go of her hand and leaned back with an amused grin. “A bit of a klutz, aren’t we?”

“I…I guess I’m nervous…” she said, bending to retrieve the rag.

She felt a slap on her backside. “Don’t worry about it. You won’t be after you’ve gotten…” another slap on the other side “…broken in.”

Now she needed to dust the master suite. Smith grabbed his whiskey, and grabbed her hand, pulling her into the bedroom. Did all masters-of-the-house grab their maids like this, she wondered? But he was her boss, so that was all that counted…

He walked straight toward the bed, and suspense prickled the hairs of her neck. Was he was going to pull her forward and toss her onto it?

But no, he stopped abruptly and turned to her. Lust was burning in his eyes, but he let go of her.

Then he did a surprising thing… he dipped his finger into the whiskey, and rubbed it on her bottom lip. She was only a maid, so she wore no lipstick or even lip balm; the alcohol heated her lip and rippled right through her. She looked up at him, eyes wide.

Briefly, Smith gasped. But he was a cool customer, and his face was stony again. He dipped his finger in the whiskey again, laying enough on that she had to suck her lip in to keep it from dripping. Her face must be crimson, she thought, but Smith was relishing this.

“Tell me, do you drink?” he asked.

“Yes. No! I mean… not… on the job…”

He laughed. He dipped his finger in one more time, this time laying it right where her lips met. She read his mind, and took the fingertip in her mouth, sucking it gently. It felt awkward, but she hoped it was satisfactory…

“Ah… good,” he said softly. Then, in a sterner voice, “Now, get back to work!”

He lay on the bed, watching, while she took a duster, getting the cobwebs, or what he indicated to be cobwebs, anyway. Oh, dear, she wasn’t very good at this; it was all rather new to her. Still, a job’s a job…

He sat up. “Come here… and bring the duster,” he ordered.

She did so. She couldn’t help but looking at his pants. Ever since he had watched her in the living room, she’d noticed… well, a lump. But maybe she’d been imagining it. But no, looking at him now, it was a definite ridge. Her head swam… clearly he was well-endowed. Surely it was immodest to look… she tried to turn his head.

“Hand that to me,” Smith said, indicating the duster. As she faced him, she knew he was enjoying her discomfort in looking at his crotch. He shifted ever so slightly, to give her more of an eyeful.

He made a great show of shaking the duster into a little wastebasket by the bed, to get out any dirt (not that there was much, if any), and pulled out a couple of loose feathers. As he did so, he asked, “Are you wearing underwear?”

She stood utterly quiet. She was, but… oh, how could she answer this question?

“Did you hear me? Underwear! Panties, drawers… do you have them on?”

“Ye- yes. White. Cotton. Just as you ordered.”

He bit his lip, breathing hard. “With lace trim?”

“Yes. Just as the order sheet told me.” Oh dear. So unusual, for an employer to specify his worker’s undergarments…

Smith pulled her toward him by the hips, hising up her skirt. With the other, he reached roughly between her legs.

“Auugh!” He rubbed her hard, panting as he did so. His hand was so big; she felt herself absolutely covered. She was embarrassed to find that she was grinding against it. This made him pull her harder into him, breathing into her. He lifted her skirt all the way up, moving her onto his crotch, so that she dry humped him. Maybe not so dry; his fondling made her moist and willing…

In a minute, he laid her on the bed, viewing her. He fingered the lace edging around her vulva. “Crotchless… good. Just as I told you.” He touched the mons, just barely covered by the laciness. “But black? Why…?” He moved his finger down, plunging inside her.

She squirmed, barely able to speak with the forbidden pleasure. Finally she answered, “You didn’t specify what color lace. I… liked the black.”

“You liked the black…” he said, considering. He pressed deeper. Yes, she was doing her duty, but surely no good girl would like this so much. yet she moved against him, compelled by his touch. He grinned. “What else do you like, I wonder?” He inserted another finger. “Hmmm?”

She kept her mouth shut but her reaction told him everything. Oh god, she would be coming in a moment…

Suddenly he pulled his hand away. He placed the two fingers that had been inside her on her mouth. She looked at him quizzically. Smith huffed. “Surely as a maid you don’t intend to keep things a mess?” She nodded, then dutifully sucked his fingers, tasting herself. It was an odd sensation. But the bossman was panting, clearly excited by it, and that aroused her.

He caught his breath, and pulled off her apron, then flipped her onto her stomach. Her skirt was up, and her panties were cut so that her ass was exposed. She lay there for what seemed the longest time and then… something soft brushed against her. It brushed against her for a few seconds, and then she felt her hands being tied. 

“These apron strings come in handy,” he said. His voice was hoarse with lust.

Again, that long pause, and then that softness glancing on her skin. It was light and infrequent at first, then building slowly as it moved over her cheeks, down the crack, flirting with the edge of her pussy. She noted the spread of it, and the shape - it was the feather duster! The dusting got faster and faster, moving in circles, lines, or just plain erratically. She was moving erratically herself.

“That’s… enough for you. For now,” he said. Smith’s breathing was very shallow. But he regained control as she knew he would. Powerful men like him always could…

She heard the rippling sound of the back of her dress being unzipped, and being pulled aside as he laid kisses on her bare back. A hand went round to grab her bare breasts (she’d been ordered not to wear a brassiere). Then both hands traveled downwards again, ripping off the panties. “I don’t have time to fuss with these,” he rasped. Both hands kept moving. “I like these,” he said, indicating the fishnets. She blushed; she’d only bought them to comply with the work order.

She heard a chuckle. “But these?” said Smith. He unbuckled her shoes, then took one and held it in front of her face. They were dull black, low-heeled, heavy with arch support and crepe sole. “These are uuuuglyyy.”

“They’re meant for comfort.”

He chucked both shoes in a corner and untied her. “Wriggle out of that horrible dress. You don’t need orthopedic shoes to lie on the bed. “ She complied, then lay down, prone on her back. She guessed he wanted to ogle her some more.

He tied her again with the apron, this time by her feet. While she lay there he got up and took off his own clothes. From long military habit, he folded them neatly, but halfway through he glared at her. “By rights I should make you fold these. But would you do them to my standards?”

“Please, Sir, I’ll do anything by your standards. Anything you say… haven’t I satisfied you?”

“Hmmm, that remains to be seen. Though, so far, you have been… satisfactory.” He lay on top of her and kissed her with savage thoroughness.

Oh, he was magnificent! Seeing him bare sent a firestorm through her… and then he had kissed her with a lover’s passion. Their arms went around each other; they couldn’t help but devour each other. Oh! Her feelings… they were surging… this strong man was getting to her…

Smith broke away, to tease her yet again. He took a lone feather from the pile he’d plucked earlier, and started to tickle her, starting with her tied feet. She rolled about, pressing a fist against her mouth to try and stifle giggles. The feather moved up her legs, tantalizing her kneecaps, up to her upper thighs.

She lay there for a moment, waiting… but the feather brushed her torso, then moved around her nipples. Smith was on top, his erection growing, and he worked himself between her legs. Whenever he thought her breasts were getting too much pleasure, he returned to her stomach, and tickled unmercifully. Her forced laughter pushed her against him and his cock was growing wilder by the moment.

At last he could take it no more. He pinned her arms to the bed and plowed inside her, pulled back, and plowed in again. All pretenses to being a good girl be damned! He was a boss, if ever there was. She thrust; ground; gyrated… anything, really, just to feel all of him.

“Cry out!” he demanded. “Scream if you want to. No one will hear you anyway… you’re mine tonight!”

With permission she let go; her mouth and pussy screamed together in joy. Then, a joy beyond belief, he cried out, too; he had succumbed with her. All the social lines – top, bottom; sub, dom; master, maid – converged and collapsed in primal sound.

Then, it was over. She caught her breath and looked at him, his hectic breathing slowing to a more rhythmic pace as he fell to the mattress beside her. His cheeks still had slashes of pink, but they were fading, like the sky paling at twilight. She reached out to touch them.

They pulled apart, slowly, and she bit her lip at the squelching sound. Unladylike, she thought… but that was a silly worry after what they’d done. So she went to the master bath, for warm washcloths and towels. After all, as the maid she was expected to clean up. She washed and dried him as he lolled contentedly on his back, then took care of herself.

He patted the bed beside him, to let her know she could lay with him. He was most considerate, leaving a dry spot for her. He buried his face in her hair, kissing her.  


They embraced and kissed for a long time. Finally he spoke.

“Mmmmm, thank you. ‘Sex with the Maid’ – every man’s fantasy. I’m so grateful to you for letting me do that.”

She blushed shyly. “But how… how was I? Did I meet your expectations? Was I good?”

“Ohhhh, very…” John scooted down and nuzzled her neck. “The best. As always, Helen, the very best.”


End file.
